


well this joke came up short

by sarcasticfishes



Series: a picture worth a thousand words [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash, Pre-Slash Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ve never been so offended,” Lydia whispered. Derek and Stiles went silent, simultaneously turning their heads to regard her (Stiles’ hand still poised in the air where he’d flicked Derek’s forehead with his finger).</p><p>“What?” Stiles asked.</p><p> </p><p>“That graffiti, on the signpost.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	well this joke came up short

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #2 was [this photo](https://31.media.tumblr.com/00b5ababc0a76998212becbcf20a5381/tumblr_inline_ncgv9oZ1iW1radf31.jpg) (recommend read the fic first and then look at the picture?)

Even though it was Lydia’s car, Derek had insisted on driving (much to Lydia’s annoyance), choosing where to park, who would sit in what seat. Unsurprisingly, Stiles ended up in the back seat, grumbling.

“We can’t park here. I can’t see the building,” he said. “What’s the point of a stake-out if I can’t even see the building we’re staking out?”

“I can see it,” Derek said, with his patented ‘and that’s that’ tone, making Lydia grin  at him.

“So can I,” she said, looking in the rear-view mirror just in time to see Stiles making a jerk-off motion with his hand and pulling a face. She chose to ignore him, in favour of checking her phone for any messages from Scott about their current situation. Stiles continued to grumble in the back seat, even putting his feet up on the back of Lydia’s chair, until she pinched the back of his calf and he flinched away.

“Where do _you_ suggest we park?” Derek sighed eventually, as Stiles moved on from grumbling to producing a constant, high, whining noise while knocking his temple against the window. Stiles shot forward to stick his head between the two front seats. His arm flailed out, pointing in the direction of the apartment block they were watching.

“There.”

“That’s right outside the building, Stiles,” Derek exasperated.

“We’ll be hiding in plain sight! It’s perfect.”

“It’s idiotic. This is why you always get caught,” Derek argued, and Lydia rolled her eyes as the boys dissolved into their usual bickering. It was then that she caught sight of the message scribbled on the back of the signpost up ahead.

“I’ve never been so offended,” she whispered. Derek and Stiles went silent, simultaneously turning their heads to regard her (Stiles’ hand still poised in the air where he’d flicked Derek’s forehead with his finger).

“What?” Stiles asked.

“That graffiti, on the signpost.”

“Ah, see, I can’t see that,” Stiles said, smiling with mock sympathy, and he turned back to Derek, “Because we’re parked so far away.”

“You _honestly_ expect me to take parking advice from you? I’ve been subjected to your driving before, Stiles, I-”

Lydia wasn’t listening anymore, she was unbuckling her belt and storming towards the signpost, taking some tissues and nail varnish remover from her handbag.

“Lydia, you can’t get out of the car!” Derek hissed, sticking his head out the window.

“I will not sit here and look at that sign,it’s taunting me,” Lydia snapped, and the door of the car opened. There was some scuffling, and muted swearwords, and then Stiles stumbled out of the car, flopping onto the pavement. Once he righted himself, he was jogging to catch up with Lydia, followed by a resigned looking Derek.

“I want to see what she’s so pissed about!”

“You’re gonna get us killed. Both of you are. You know there are _Wendigos_ in that building. Wendigo plural.”

Lydia was standing at the bottom of the signpost, frowning up at the graffiti above her head.

“I can’t reach it,” she said, simply.

Stiles stood next to her and looked up; he promptly burst out laughing.

Derek frowned between Stiles and Lydia, but as he looked up at the sign Lydia was grumbling over, she could tell that he was struggling not to laugh the way Stiles openly was.

“I see,” he said, his voice quivering with restrained laughter.

Someone had scribbled on the back of the sign ‘ **SHORT PEOPLE SUCK** ’ in black sharpie.

“It’s not funny,” Lydia protested, “My height has subjected me to endless days of backpain and foot-pain just to get noticed!” she frowned, gesturing angrily down at the stiletto heels she was wearing. “Do you know how hard it is to be taken seriously when I wear flats?”

Stiles clung to the post for support, wiping tears from his eyes.

“She can’t reach it,” he wheezed, “Because she’s _short_.”

Derek broke then, the laughter erupting from him, leaning into Stiles’ shoulder for support. Lydia stomped her foot.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Stiles asked, gasping for breath.

“Do something about it!” she frowned, thrusting the nail varnish remover at Derek’s chest, and a packet of tissues at Stiles’. “Defend my honour and the honour of the vertically challenged everywhere.”

Lydia stalked back to the carwith all the grace she could muster.However, she couldn’t help but smile when she turned to find thatDerek was giving Stiles a boost up with both hands cupped around his foot, Stiles’ knee balanced against Derek’s shoulder. Lydia had to hold back a laugh at Derek’s apparent shock at having Stiles’ crotch so close to his face, but Stiles had one palm flat against the sign post and – seemed to be writing _more_ on it?

“What are you doing?” Lydia snapped, and Stiles openly cackled at the sign, which now read ‘ **SHORT PEOPLE SUCK _FOR HIS BENEFIT_** _’._

“Stiles!”

“Oh c’mon, I’m funny. I’m sending a snap of this to Jackson.”

“Where did you even get that marker from? Get _rid_ of it.”

“Fine, fine,” Stiles rolled his eyes, turning back to the sign, yelping when Derek jostled him roughly.

“You know, I’m not doing this for the good of my health, and you’re not exactly one-fifty-pounds-dripping-wet anymore,” Derek reminded him, and Stiles unscrewed the cap on the nail varnish remover with a grumble and started cleaning the graffiti off the sign.

“What else you got in the handbag of yours, Lydia?” Stiles asked, “Got a hair dryer in there?”

“Of course. I’m not an animal,” Lydia grinned.

“I love that show,” Derek said, looking up and Stiles and then smiling at Lydia. A second later, Stiles started to climb down from his semi-perch on Derek’s shoulder, mission accomplished. The graffiti was gone.

“My heroes,” Lydia smiled, “After some persuasion, of course.”

Derek snorted, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and Lydia hooked her arm through his, hugging his arm to her chest.

“See? You both defended my honour and no one died.”

“Shit,” Derek groaned, and Stiles laughed again. “We’re supposed to be watching the building.”

“We’re so bad at this,” Stiles said.

Lydia nodded, pursing her lips as she looked from Derek to Stiles and then back again.

“So … coffee break?”

“Yep.”

“You know it.”

 


End file.
